German
being the German kid in the 20's in Los Angeles
was difficult.
there was much anti-German feeling then,
a carry-over from World War 1.
gangs of kids chased me through the neighborhood
yelling, 'Hieneie! Hieneie! Hienie!'
they never caught me.
I was like a cat.
I knew all the paths through brush and alleys.
I scaled 6-foot back fences in a flash and was off through
backyards and around blocks
and onto garage roofs and other hiding places.
then too, they didn't really want to catch me.
they were afraid I might bayonet them
or gouge out their eyes.
this went on for about 18 months
then all of a sudden it seemed to stop.
I was more or less accepted(but never really)
which was all right with me.
those sons-of-bitches were Americans,
they and their parents had been born here.
they had names like Jones and Sullivan and
Baker.
they were pale and often fat with runny
noses and big belt buckles.
I decided never to become an American.
my hero was Baron Manfred von Richthofen
the German air ace;
he'd shot down 80 of their best
and there was nothing they could do about
that now.
their parents didn't like my parents
(I didn't either) and
I decided when I got big I'd go live in some place
like Iceland,
never open my door to anybody and live on my
luck, live with a beautiful wife and a bunch of wild
animals:
which is, more or less, what
happened
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Minority Mayority
I am me
I didn't choose my parents
I didn't choose my root
I didn't choose my origin
But I decided to live
I am different
And you are too
Nobody's same in the world
So don't make it a matter to leave me
Because I'm happy to be me
You hate me
Because you don't know me
You are scared with me
Because you don't want to be stranger
But I know and want what I believe
I can laugh, I can cry too
I have a dream, I have an anger too
Why are you judging me
and telling me that I'm wrong creature?
Don't make a reason in the name of God
Or any other reason you thought to be right
Open your mind, open your heart
And we don't have to fight
You don't have to kill anybody
Let's break the system!
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She’s A Running Girl
I don’t know who her parents were,
Her background is hazy,
She never talked about her past,
Because she’s just a running girl,
Never stays in one place too long,
Because she’s just a running girl,
And she was always just born to run.
On the run for something she didn’t do,
Disowned by all those who loved her,
Stabbed in the back and betrayed,
And in a flash she was staring down
The barrel of cops long black gun,
Caught in middle of nowhere,
Condemned for something she didn’t do.
There was a guy once,
Who tired to run with her,
Her got about a mile or so
Before he fell by the wayside,
Unable to carry on,
She didn’t want to leave him,
But she couldn’t stop running.
I know you’ll never stop,
Because you’re a running girl,
Just born to keep moving.
Maybe someday you’ll
Have someone to run with you,
So you won’t be alone.
A running life’s a lonely life,
But it’s the only one you’ve got.
You’re just a running girl,
You were always just born to run.
8/05/06
poem by Charlie F. Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who Else Do You Think Does That?
'Are you STILL living with your parents?
And in 'their' home? '
Yes.
Yes I am.
And even though my father passed,
Twenty-two years ago.
And my mother has been gone,
Almost eleven years...
I am very proud to say,
I live there alone!
With a peace of mind,
I am sure they would condone!
'I am very sorry.
I didn't know.'
Don't apologize.
I didn't expect you would.
Gossips wouldn't want anyone to realize that!
Especially in this rumor drenched neighborhood.
'So it has been you 'alone' who make ends there meet? '
Who else do you think does that?
In my 'parents' retreat!
The gossipers who breed and feed negativity?
'Forgive me for putting my foot in my mouth.'
Hey...
That doesn't bother me.
Where I dwell there is peace.
And I have the 'key' to go where it is released.
What you and others do with your feet,
Is not a concern of mine at all!
Enjoy your blessed day.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When It Hurts Enough To Cry
When it hurts enough to cry,
Like when your parents give you up, and you don't know why.
Parents just like my own,
Didn't want anything to do with me, till I was grown.
Why do some parents give up their kids,
Do they ever regret later that they did?
My parents weren't there through the teen years,
Or seeing me graduate which brought me tears.
I hardly heard I love you son,
When growing up, I can't remember having any fun.
Something my dad said has always stuck in my head,
When I was five he said he wished I was dead.
Doesn't he know my heart was torn?
I never did ask to be born.
Parents are suppose to love their kids,
And it will show later what a good job they did.
They say you can't choose your mom or dad,
Cause if I could I wouldn't be so sad.
But I always remember what Jesus said,
''Always love your mom and dad.''
poem by Roger Dodd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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German is more familiar now since I live part of the year in Rome and part in the German part of Switzerland. But it's not difficult to sing in German; it's difficult to feel in German. This takes time. It's a culture.
quote by Cecilia Bartoli
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Broken children
I've come across many neglected children
They carry a pain
Thats left a mark
An uncured wound
A broken heart
A broken home
Due to parents disappearing
Or out there searching
Always there children they are hurting
Why! ....
Because of greed
Because of need
Because of temptation
Or because of drugs!
These children never did ask to be born
And find there status torn
Ripped apart and shredded!
How selfish can those parents be
All for want and for themselves to repair
The only place they have come to tear
Are the roots of those children
Who live there lives searching for there souls
Life becomes a riddle
When only themselves they muddle
Walking down those empty streets
Meeting up with others who swollowed the same
Now they've decided to create a new game
Let it be violence!
And push those parents into shame
Yet it is always
Those poor children who live with blame!
If this is freedom of choice!
Then let those poor children
Make a voice!
poem by Suzan Gumush
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not that we didn't have close relationships with our parents - I'm very close to my mom - but parents didn't think anything of going off for a few weeks and leaving their kids.
quote by Candice Bergen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What More? Not Money!
What more can I ask for
What do I need?
What do I want?
All I need is love to live on
All I need is trust to live on
All I need is sense to live on
All I need is someone else's love to live on
Money isn't just everything
It can buy things
But there are some things money can't buy
Money can't buy my parents
No matter how much people offer me billions of dollars for my parents
I will never hand my parents to them
My parents are worth every single thing to me
I need love to go on
The loneliness is something that has a grudge on me
But with love
The grudge is gone
All I need to live on is God
When nobody listens to me
God does
He's always ready to listen
He's always ready to repsond
God is like my father
Who I love and care
Because he cares for my parents
I don't care if he doesn't care for me
Cuz' my parents are my top priority
I'll do anything to not lose them
I don't care about money
Because money comes and go
But love, God, and my parents are with me
No matter where
They're inside me
My fuel energy to live on.
poem by XXXHolix Fire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I raced with Mercedes, I thought I'd learn German. But my wife didn't want to live in Germany.
quote by Juan Manuel Fangio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My parents found what I was interested in and encouraged me. They didn't put me in front of a television and buy lots of toys, the way some American parents do.
quote by Nastassja Kinski
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our parents decided not to teach us Chinese. It was an era when they felt we would be better off if we didn't have that complication.
As Parents To Our Parents
They never teach you this at school;
they'll try to teach you reading, writing, 'rithmetic
in their own instructed ways;
but now, if anyone suggested it, there'd be howls
about the impertinence, the interference,
the rights, the dangers of this and that -
but all the same, they never teach you:
how to get on with your parents.
Oh there are books and books and books
telling your parents how to look after you, but hey!
there are two parties here! Mom and Dad
can ask their own parents (sometimes - because they
were in the same situation as you are now and so,
reckon they can do a better job...) but
who can you, ask?
Philip Larkin told us memorably that
'they f*** you up, your Mum and Dad',
which may not be the case for all of us;
Hindus have their own stern answer to this question:
you chose them, in effect, as the result
of your behaviour in your previous life...so there,
work with that, kiddo, could be
the making of you...stop blaming it all on them!
So there you are, in this heated cauldron of love and hate, or
like sharp stones shaken in this bag called family
until the rough edges wear (each other) away and
those smooth round pebbles roll out to the world...
but perhaps a little help wouldn't hurt?
I was exactly four and a half when I told the truth about something,
since I didn't know any other way; and as my parents' voices
rose in argument about 'knowing what was best for me',
(I remember the moment now, so clear) I turned my back
on this so painful sound, faced the 'wireless' on the chest of drawers,
and decided there and then
that grown-ups made such a fuss when you told the truth
that it would be better not to - at least, until
they grew up a bit... and there, went half a lifetime
of prevarication, dodging the question, fantasy: never tell the truth
until you're sure they really, really want to hear it...
Then when I was eleven or thereabouts
(and again, I remember exactly where I was standing
at the time - the bottom of the stairs)
the solemn thought 'entered my head':
that in some way I knew but couldn't quite explain,
I was in the position, had some duty,
to take care, in some thoughtful way, of the minds of those
my parents...
But they didn't teach that at my school.
love, I knew all about; but
parents? Aren't they strange? They try so hard, too...
and no, I don 't need 'counselling', thanks -
I'd rather keep it in the family. All I'm asking
is, a few lessons, maybe? I'd even do
the homework.
XXX love you both XXX
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Light of Peace Vavroovahana Patra
Light of peace pervades in a lovely family;
All family members live gladly.
Love reigns in the family;
Parents live peacefully.
Flower of peace blooms in a good family;
Daughters and sons live gaily.
Obey the advices of parents daily;
With fraternity brothers live cheerfully.
Daughters regard parent’s advices silently;
Rose of love blossoms in the garden of family naturally.
All live beneath the veil of Divine mother;
Singing devotional songs live with pleasure.
Family is a school of education;
Is mother’s beauteous creation.
Education begins in the family;
Obeying parents, sons and daughters live pleasantly.
Peace provides fraternity;
Lovely daughters, sons live with gaiety.
Peaceful family is a Heaven on Earth;
All members live with mirth.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yes, and when I had Aaron, he left me, and I didn't know how to raise a child. And I wasn't close to my parents, and because I was too proud to go to my parents for help, I mistreated that little baby. I didn't want a baby.
quote by Lynn Johnston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We as parents to our parents
They never teach you this at school;
they'll try to teach you reading, writing, 'rithmetic
in their own instructed ways;
but now, if anyone suggested it, there'd be howls
about the impertinence, the interference,
the rights, the dangers of this and that -
but all the same, they never teach you:
how to get on with your parents.
Oh there are books and books and books
telling your parents how to look after you, but hey!
there are two parties here! Mom and Dad
can ask their own parents (sometimes - because they
were in the same situation as you are now and so,
reckon they can do a better job...) but
who can you, ask?
Philip Larkin told us memorably that
'they f*** you up, your Mum and Dad',
which may not be the case for all of us;
Hindus have their own stern answer to this question:
you chose them, in effect, as the result
of your behaviour in your previous life...so there,
work with that, kiddo, could be
the making of you...stop blaming it all on them!
So there you are, in this heated cauldron of love and hate, or
like sharp stones shaken in this bag called family
until the rough edges wear (each other) away and
those smooth round pebbles roll out to the world...
but perhaps a little help wouldn't hurt?
I was exactly four and a half when I told the truth about something,
since I didn't know any other way; and as my parents' voices
rose in argument about 'knowing what was best for me',
(I remember the moment now, so clear) I turned my back
on this so painful sound, faced the 'wireless' on the chest of drawers,
and decided there and then
that grown-ups made such a fuss when you told the truth
that it would be better not to - at least, until
they grew up a bit... and there, went half a lifetime
of prevarication, dodging the question, fantasy: never tell the truth
until you're sure they really, really want to hear it...
Then when I was eleven or thereabouts
(and again, I remember exactly where I was standing
at the time - the bottom of the stairs)
the solemn thought 'entered my head':
that in some way I knew but couldn't quite explain,
I was in the position, had some duty,
to take care, in some thoughtful way, of the minds of those
my parents...
But they didn't teach that at my school.
love, I knew all about; but
parents? Aren't they strange? They try so hard, too...
and no, I don 't need 'counselling', thanks -
I'd rather keep it in the family. All I'm asking
is, a few lessons, maybe? I'd even do
the homework.
XXX love you both XXX
[revisited]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hope May Be... (please comment, project for english)
Hope may be…
Hope may be: us teenagers of this world in high schools and universities; hope is us teenagers fitting in this big and scary world; hope is us teenagers and our decisions to proceed to new passages.
Hope may be: us kids of this world; hope is the kids of this world and what route they decide to take in long run; hope is the kids of this world who will turn this world around.
Hope may be: our parents and what they wanted us to become in life, hope is our parents and what turn we decided to take within the paths they shaped for us.
Hope may be many things, hope is me and you- hope is all of us.
Hope is believing that us “dumb teenagers” will hold this world together another century.
poem by Sam Hussin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tobacconist's daughter and chain smoker who wears a Greek Fisherman Hat!
Parents totally against their daughter's marriage
since the beginning and he never goes to work
finishes a packet of cigarette within few hours?
One night they chased him out of the premises
Otherwise they have to close the store soon.
Charming daughter like sodium bicarbonate
who soothes her parents' frequent heartburn
All of a sudden started the smoking?
The old parents called the son-in-law
and handed over the business to them
and decided to leave to a nearby apartment!
Everybody knows that the business goes well now
and both quitted smoking!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My Best Neighbors
my best neighbors
are those that do not mind me
though
there are times when our paths
cross
and so we say hello
just that
and then we go back to our
own preoccupations
our poetry our short stories
our dogs
and chickens and our higher
fences this time
our roofs do not meet
our garage gates do not face each other
our plants are different
we never want to have the same lawns
our fruit trees do not bear fruits at the same
that would be an insult
(how crazy have we become?)
their cars do not make any honks
we keep this silent agreement
this noiseless world we live in
this mind your own business thing
when it rains so hard
we do not open our windows and look outside
(are we afraid to see our sad faces?)
we are what we are
we do not even know each others' names
how cruel
and yet how peaceful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Parents don't understand kids and kids don't understand parents. My parents were divorced when I was really young and I went to live with my dad.
quote by Mark Hoppus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyone Was There
Thinking about senior year
Everyone was here
Playing capture the flag at the park
Didn’t stop ‘til it got dark
And the very next day
Had poison on my arms and legs
And I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young and stupid
We were wild and crazy
But we didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
Thinking about that one Saturday
Was having fun in our own way
At a friends house we were spending the night
Think that was true? Yeah right
We were partying hard in the field
If my parents found out I’d be killed
But I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young and stupid
We were wild and crazy
But we didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
Thinking about graduation night
We were all as high as a kite
Laughing about the whole year
And we were all here
Sitting around a bonfire
With a bottle of fire water
And I didn’t even care
Because everyone was there
We were young
And we were so stupid
We were wild
And we were so crazy
We didn’t have a worry or a care
Because everyone was there
poem by Maggie lll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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